


Love Languages

by ContreParry



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Language Kink, M/M, Secret Relationships, misunderstandings galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no slaves in Kirkwall, this Orana knows. But some habits, like keeping secrets, are hard to break.</p>
<p>De-Anon from the Dragon Age Kink Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Languages

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt requested that secret relationship!Fenders speak to each other in Tevene when around their companions, and that their relationship is revealed when they come across someone who knows Tevene.
> 
> Orana's from Minrathous and served Hadriana. She is probably very fluent in Tevene.

Orana found that the strangest thing about Kirkwall was everyone's kindness. Even her masters- no, not her masters, there were no masters because she was free and would never have to call someone “Master” again. It was her employer and his many companions, not masters at all, and all of them were so terribly kind. She did not know what to do about such kindness. She experienced kindness from her family, from her fellows- hidden acts and services that were squirreled away like precious jewels. They were secret treasures, made more precious for their rarity. But here in Kirkwall, her employer and his family, his friends, they spread kindness like water, breathed it in like air. What did you do about kindness?  


At first she was frightened. They were hiding things. Her ever alert instincts as a slave were honed and sharpened to a shrewdness that kept her alive in Mi- in Hadriana's household. Hadriana liked the unruly slaves, the ones that fought and escaped and tried to run, or the ones who held a defiant spark in their eyes. She liked them strong in spirit, the stronger the better. Hadriana liked to break them, take them apart until there was nothing left. She ignored slaves like Orana, elven girls who cowered and whimpered and never fought back. So Orana never fought. She was attentive, shadowing Hadriana and attending to her needs before fleeing to disappear into the crowd of the varied slaves who managed the household.  


But here, in Kirkwall, everything was different. Messere Hawke was very kind, always giving her her coin on time and encouraging her to buy little things for herself. Hawke made sure she had a room- a small room off the kitchen, but a clean one with a good bed and a fireplace and washbasin and it was all her own. Hawke was a big man, a frightening giant of a man with a quicksilver tongue and boisterous personality, but Orana was raised in Minrathous in the service of a house of vipers. Hawke was kind, and Orana was learning to not fear kindness.  


Messere Hawke's mother, the Lady Amell, was also kind. She had always asked if Orana needed help, if she needed rest, if she needed anything. Once, and Orana was almost certain of this, the lady had raised her hand up to stroke her hair, a slow movement of her hand that quickly fell to her side. Orana cried when she died, cried in the quiet of her room. One of her duties was the continued maintenance of Lady Amell's rooms- changing the sheets, cleaning the dust, airing the bedding, polishing the furniture, and bringing fresh flowers into the room. Not lilies. Never lilies.  


Messere Carver Hawke was also kind. He rarely visited the house, being a Gray Warden, but when he did visit Orana made sure to cook the dishes he liked best. Messere Carver brought little presents from places he visited- candies from Orlais, a pair of dangling earrings from Antiva, a wooden carving of a doe that had no place of origin but Orana suspected was carved by Messere Carver himself. She savored each candy slowly, wore the earrings on the most special of occasions, and the doe had a special place on her shelf where she lay out all her treasures.  


The other household members were kind too, a kindness that was familiar and much welcomed by Orana. Bodhain worked hard to give her tasks that weren't too taxing for her body, and always welcomed her with a cheerful smile and, when it was cold, a cup of warm tea. Bodhain's boy, Sandal, was strange in his ways, but kind. He would smile and let Orana watch him fiddle with runes and enchantments, even though she never could figure out quite what he was doing to make those strange symbols work. Even Messere Hawke's mabari hound, Dog, was kind. He slept outside her door when she had her bad nights and woke up confused and certain that she was once again living in Hadriana's household. Dog was a sweet dog, all dusty golden fur and lolling tongue, and he gave Orana the most pitiful glances when she was cooking. She liked sneaking him little tidbits from supper, and they had an arrangement between them- if he was good and stayed on his rug in the kitchen, Orana would give Dog the best scraps from the meal.  


Messere Hawke's companions were also so kind to her.  


Guard Captain Vallen was courteous, and worried over Hawke while scolding him for his recklessness. She enquired after her health, questioned her about how she was treated in the town, and once offered to teach her how to wield a knife in case of an emergency. Orana was too shy to accept the offer, but hoped that someday she would have enough courage to give it a chance.  


The Lady Merrill gave her many Dalish gifts and lessons. While Orana had no need for lessons of a people that were not really hers, she liked feeling like she had a family beyond her father who was now gone. She sat through the little lectures patiently, and felt more at peace for them.  


Lady- no, Captain Isabela, she talked to Orana in the way that other slaves would. She liked to tease everyone, but her teasing with Orana was soft and gentle, like a welcoming embrace. She once gave her a small bottle of jasmine perfume, a bottle she kept close to the doe statue. She never used it, but liked to dab it on a handkerchief so she could smell it and remember the jasmine vine that clung to the kitchen window in the home of her childhood master.  


Messere Tethras wrote his stories and gave her a few to read for herself. She loved the adventures those tales told, and she suspected that she was one of the first to get her hands on the latest chapters. She read them eagerly, and whenever she thanked Messere Tethras for the work he would chuckle and tell her that the next chapter was coming up.  


Brother- no, Prince? Brother? Messere Vael gave her an illustrated book of Chantry psalms. When she quietly told him she wanted to honor her loved ones, he helped her light candles for her father, for her mother, for everyone she had lost in Hadriana's house.  


Messere Anders always inquired after her health. When she had a fever and her body was shaking and she could barely tell what was real and what was a dream, he came from his clinic, where he was very busy, and sat with her, giving her medicine and watered down broth, instructing Hawke to keep an eye on her temperature and to not use too much healing magic, lest he “overrun her system.” Messere Anders praised her cooking, smiled at her kindly, and never, ever raised his voice in her presence.  


Messere Fenris was quieter, but no less caring, no less kind. She remembered him from Before, when he was chained in Hadriana's household. She had brought food to him once when she was a small child. She remembered being frightened of him, a ferocious creature who seemed more monster than elf. The slaves always whispered about him: Fenris, the one who escaped Ma-no, Danarius. The one who eluded him still. He was legendary. Awe-inspiring. Terrifying. But Orana was not afraid of him. He spoke to her in Tevene, quietly asked her if she was being treated well, and he was there that night when Messere Anders cared for her.  


That was how she discovered the truth about them, and learned of the artful deception they worked so hard to hide from the world.

 

_“Hawke, it's not good.” A voice said somewhere above Orana's head as she lay in what felt like a cloud. “Her temperature is high, and her immune system weak.”_  


_“Andraste's Ass, I knew she was working too hard!” Messere Hawke? What was Messere Hawke doing in Mistress Hadriana's household? Orana tried to lift her head, to give the messeres a proper curtsey and greeting, but she could not move her body. Even the act of lifting her eyelids was beyond her now. If only she were stronger!  
_

_“If you knew it, why did you do nothing?” Another voice, different from the first and from Messere Hawke, growled. She knew that voice, knew the tone and the anger and defensiveness behind it.  
_

_“If you must know, Fenris, she gets up and works when the household's asleep. We've all been trying to get her to stop and rest, but she just won't!” Messere Hawke exclaimed. Orana wondered how the messeres came to Minrathous, and why they would come to see a lowly slave like herself.  
_

_“She is trying to prove that she has value, that she is too precious to sell or kill- venhedis, Hawke!” Messere Fenris cursed. “You should have spoken with me sooner, I would have explained things to her.”  
_

_“A little late for that now, gentlemen.” The first voice said. Messere Anders? Was that Messere Anders? But he was so busy, tending to the sick and needy! She was well enough that someone as important as Messere Anders, a Healer, a Gray Warden, need not call on her. She was fine! If only she could open her eyes and speak, but her eyelids were heavy and her tongue felt like lead. Her throat was dry and her body felt sticky and wrong, on fire and frozen all at once. There was someone who could help her, though-  
_

_“Mama!” She cried out. Mama knew what to do, she always did, and she'd make the fever go away- but mama wasn't here, was she? The bed did not feel like the straw pallet she shared in Mistress Hadriana's household. Where was she?_  
Kirkwall, her mind supplied. She was in Kirkwall, working as a servant and cook in Messere Hawke's home. Mistress Hadriana was no longer her master because she was dead, and Orana was free. There are no slaves in Kirkwall, and she is no slave. But this was still not her bed, she knew that much.  


_“Hawke, I need you to go down to my clinic. When you sent your runner I was ill prepared. I need my lyrium potions, and a collection of herbs at my work station.” Messere Anders sounded very serious. What was wrong?  
_

_“Which herbs should I-” Messere Hawke asked.  
_

_“Bring the lot. It's all been organized and tied off into bundles, shove it in a sack and come back here!” Messere Anders ordered. “Fenris will stay with me. Orana's delirious, she needs someone to talk to her and keep her calm.”  
_

_“I will stay.” Messere Fenris promised. Heavy footsteps exited the room, muffled by... carpet? But her floor was stone, stone covered with a tiny rag rug- there was no carpet there! There was silence for a time, and a damp cloth wiped across Orana's brow, gathering sweat and cooling her skin.  
_

_“You are upset.” Messere Fenris said. It was in Tevene, and Orana wondered who he was talking to until Messere Anders responded.  
_

_“Obviously! Hawke was not paying attention and now Orana is sick. He is unaware of everything and everyone around him, the big lug.” Messere Anders grumbled. His Tevene was thick and heavily accented, but still understandable.  
_

_“Orana was a slave. Slaves learn to work without being seen.” Messere Fenris said calmly. Orana realized that his voice was coming somewhere from her left side, while Messere Anders was on her right.”Hawke did not see her work herself into illness because Orana did not wish to be seen. Do not blame him for this.”  
_

_“She is not a slave anymore!” Messere Anders protested. The hand on her brow hand twitched slightly. Was that Messere Anders's hand on her forehead? It was hard to tell.  
_

_“Calm yourself. She is adjusting. It is difficult to learn how to be free.” Messere Fenris said. His voice was gentle, his Tevene perfect, as clean and measured as any high-born Altus. Even his cursing was refined. “She will learn in time, my love.”  
_

_“I understand.” Messere Anders sighed. “This is a terrible fever. It could have become chokedamp, if we hadn't caught it in time.”  
_

_“Yes, but you saw the symptoms, and she is strong. She will manage.” Messere Fenris responded, voice still gentle. “You will heal her as you always do.”  
_

_“Yes. Yes, you're right, sweetheart.” Messere Anders agreed, and Orana felt a soothing wave of healing magic sweep over her body as she tumbled into the restful darkness of sleep._

 

 

Orana woke from her fever two days later. She discovered that not only had she been moved from her own bedroom to a guest bedroom on the second floor (Such an honor! And all for her!), but that Messere Anders himself tended to her. All of Messere Hawke's companions came in to visit, too, and they came a second time to ask after her! Dog lay by her bedside throughout her illness, and Messere Hawke continued to check on her throughout the days that followed. Orana was not used to such pampering. It felt like the world turned upside down. But this was Kirkwall, not Minrathous, and there were no slaves in Kirkwall.  


While Orana did not remember much of her sickness, what she did remember was feverish hallucinations. She was certain what she had heard between Messere Anders and Messere Fenris were wild imaginings brought on by her illness. After all, Orana reasoned, she had seen the two of them together before at the house. Of all of Messere Hawke's companions, Messere Anders and Messere Fenris were always fighting. They would argue loudly, quietly, and at any volume in between. Orana knew they did not like each other (though she never understood why, they were both so kind to her).  


Once their shouting grew so loud that Messere Tethras told them to stop fighting before they brought the rafters down around everyone's heads. After that event the arguments were quiet. Their hostility was reserved for muttered words passed between them as they brushed by each other, or heated glares across the dining room table.  


But then came the day where she cleaned the library. Dog had run across the Wounded Coast and tracked sand and mud onto the priceless rugs in the library, and she had to take them out and clean them, beating the dirt out of each one. Orana was proud that the rugs looked as bright as the day they were purchased, a testament to her skills as a maid. She was about to return the clean rugs to their places in the library when she heard two low voices conversing from within. Not wanting to interrupt, Orana waited outside for the proper moment to enter. And if she listened in on the conversation, it was only proper sense. She should know what occurred in the household she served, even if she were a maid and her life no longer depended on keeping two steps ahead of her master.  


“Venhedis!” Messere Fenris cursed lowly. “I shall never understand this.” He had spoken in Tevene, his accent as familiar to Orana as her own hand. It made her a bit homesick, to hear her native tongue from a countryman's lips.  


“You were doing fine!” Messere Anders encouraged, also in Tevene (though poorly spoken and heavily accented). “Keep going.”  


“Somehow you manage not to laugh.” Messere Fenris groused, but he seemed to return to whatever it was he was doing. “My letters look like the scribblings of a child, Anders.”  


“And they're a sight better than my own, Fenris.” Messere Anders retorted. He sounded happy, Orana thought. Messere Anders so rarely sounded happy. 

“You're only upset because you're a perfectionist.”  


“I shall conquer this.” Messere Fenris swore solemnly. “I shall.”  


“Of course you will, love.” Messere Anders said kindly. “And your writing will be more elegant than Varric's when you finally do.”  


“You tease me. Perhaps by the time I have accomplished that, you will finally be fluent in Tevene.” Messere Fenris said affectionately, and Orana thought she heard a hint of laughter in his voice. This was a terribly private moment, she thought, guilt bubbling in her like a pot of water over a cooking fire. She was lurking behind the door like a common thief, and there was no reason to lurk or hide! She would simply pretend to have not heard the conversation, Orana resolved, and stop spying. Orana knocked politely before entering the library, just in time to see Messere Anders and Messere Fenris spring away from each other and stare in opposite directions. As if, Orana realized, they were children who had been caught stealing sweet treats from the kitchen.  


“Orana!” Messere Anders said brightly in Common, leaving his spot from behind Messere Hawke's desk to approach her. “How are you feeling?”  


“Quite well, Messere Anders.” She replied, bobbing into a polite curtsey. “Thank you, Messere, for healing me when I was ill.”  


“It was no trouble! Have you been taking care of yourself?” Messere Anders asked. Messere Fenris was sitting at the desk, grasping a quill pen in his hand. He looked terribly elegant, Orana thought. Elegant and reserved, like an Altus. Like a free man.  


“Do not pester her so, Mage.” Messere Fenris said cooly, shocking Orana. He had been so warm before she came in, but now he was so cold to Messere Anders! What had caused this change?  


“Not pestering, Elf. It's just a question.” Messere Anders said rudely. Messere Anders was never rude! Orana was puzzled by this shift in behavior. She had just heard them being sweet to each other, sweet and warm and kind! No one changed this quickly!  


“If messeres do not mind,” Orana said cautiously as she hoisted up the heavy rugs in her arms, “I will put these back and leave you to your work.”  


“Oh, of course!” Messere Anders said politely. “But you must rest afterwards, Orana. You are still recovering.”  


“For once I agree.” Messere Fenris added. “You must not push yourself.”  
Orana curtseyed again and spread out the rugs in their appropriate spots- one in front of the fireplace, one at the doorway, and the last right in front of the desk. Messere Fenris had returned to his writing, and Messere Anders was lurking behind him, carefully not looking at the sheet of paper. Once Orana finished, she curtseyed again and exited the room.  


“Is she making a proper recovery, my love?” She heard Messere Fenris ask as she shut the door behind her. He was once again speaking in Tevene, his voice warm and concerned.  


“If she takes it easy, she will be back to normal within the week.” Messere Anders replied, once again in Tevene, once again kind and sweet, and Orana now knew that the words they exchanged over her feverish body were not the product of her imagination.

 

Orana did not go out of her way to listen in on Messere Anders and Messere Fenris and their private conversations in Tevene. Somehow, though, she kept overhearing them. There was a pattern to their conversations, Orana realized. When they spoke in Common to each other in the presence of others, they were cruel. Their words were bitter and harsh and awful to hear. But when they spoke in Tevene....  


When they spoke in Tevene, they spoke words of love.  


“You must eat more, my love. You are skin and bones.” Messere Fenris urged Messere Anders while they sat at the dining table. Orana had just removed a now empty basket of bread and was bringing out the main course, a hearty lamb stew. Privately, she agreed with Messere Fenris's assessment of Messere Anders and his diet. He needed to eat a good deal more to put some weight on his thin frame.  


“And I will be fine, sweetheart. Wardens have trouble keeping their weight on.” Messere Anders replied under his breath. Orana barely caught the words over the conversations between Messere Hawke's other guests, his other companions.  


“And now they're using secret code to insult each other.” Messere Tethras remarked, a broad smirk on his face. “Hawke, do we need to put the children to bed?”  


“They aren't throwing their food at each other, they'll manage.” Messere Hawke joked, and conversation returned to normal. Orana left the room to pick up another basket of bread, and reminded herself not to listen in on conversations that did not concern her. Yet this was Kirkwall, not Minrathous, and there were no slaves in Kirkwall. Orana could listen in without fear of whippings or death.

 

The next conversation took place when Orana had time off and was petting Dog in the main hallway. She certainly had not meant to listen in, but after making her curtsies and trying to dismiss herself, Dog lay his head on her lap and stared at her with moist brown eyes. Orana found that she could not leave Dog so sad and alone, and she resumed her petting.  


Messere Hawke stopped by the house with Guard Captain Vallen, Captain Isabela, Messere Fenris, and Messere Anders. Messere Hawke spoke with Messere Bodhain and Sandal on a matter concerning weapons crafting. Captain Isabela and Guard Captain Vallen argued over what route through the Bone Pit was safest. But Messere Fenris and Messere Anders were having a conversation of a different kind in Tevene.  


“I would have you on your back, my love, your legs splayed open for me while you whine like a bitch in heat.” Messere Fenris growled to Messere Anders in the foyer, and Orana bit her lip and forced her face to remain blank because that was so very filthy and Messere Fenris should not be saying those sort of things in public!  


“And I would gladly comply.” Messere Anders said coyly, eyes narrow and lips thinned in a smirk. “Shall I put on your favorite robes or go as the Orlesians do? I know how much you like the curve of my ass, sweetheart.”  


“Your robes will be torn to shreds and I will bind you to my bed with the scraps. I will take you slowly, each and every time bringing you to the edge and drawing it out until we are joined fully as one. You will remain in my bedchamber until we are both satiated.” Messere Fenris replied, leaning forwards until he was nearly nose-to-nose with Messere Anders.  


“Ohhhh, you two are having quite the conversation!” Captain Isabela purred. “All this glaring and heated words, makes a woman swoon from all the tension!”  


“Keep it in your smalls.” Guard Captain Vallen said firmly, and she turned her commanding gaze on Messere Anders and Messere Fenris. “And you two will behave yourselves and not get into any fights while we're out, we've heard quite enough of your sniping all day!”  


“But we weren't-” Messere Anders protested.  


“Just because we don't speak Tevene, Anders, doesn't mean we don't know you're both fighting.” Messere Hawke commented, approaching the group. “I got the rune we need, let's go meet that dragon in the pit!”  


Orana knew she could speak up now and defend Messere Anders and Messere Fenris. She could tell Messere Hawke and his companions that Messere Anders and Messere Fenris cared for each other, that they said kind things to each other, that they did not fight in Tevene. But then Orana would have to admit to knowing what the men said to each other. That was too embarrassing! Orana stayed silent and hoped she did not have to continue lying to her employer and his companions. Even if there were no slaves in Kirkwall, Orana was certain she would never be able to recover from the embarrassment of admitting she had heard every word of many, many private conversations.

 

“Sweetheart.” Messere Anders whispered it to Messere Fenris as they sat in the kitchen. Orana had been sleeping, but their soft conversation woke her. “Sweetheart, please look at me.”  


“Anders, please.” Messere Fenris croaked out. “Do not say it.”  


“You are good, Fenris. He never tainted you.” Messere Anders said soothingly. “You are still you, and I adore you.”  


“I am ruined, Anders. I am a scarred, broken thing.” Messere Fenris sounded sad, resigned, as if he truly believed that he was broken. “There is nothing for you to love. I am a burnt out husk. You should find another, someone more deserving-”  


“No, Fenris. You are worthy of love.” Messere Anders's voice was fierce, honest. “You are worthy of love and respect and every good thing. I will not let that monster win.”  


“He has!” Messere Fenris exclaimed. “What has he touched that he has not spoiled? I am impure, unclean. He has tainted everything!”  


“You are not ruined.” Messere Anders firmly insisted. “And now he will never touch you again.” His voice grew softer then, lost some of its iron strength. “But Fenris, love, if you do not wish for my touch, I would never force you to bear it.”  


“No. No, I want-” A sound tore from Messere Fenris's throat, half-sob half-laugh. “I want you, my love. Anders. Please do not leave me, even though this is all I am.”  


“You're all I need and more, Fenris. I am a better man for knowing and loving you.” Messere Anders declared, and there was silence between the two, the comfortable silence of a couple who understood each other perfectly without the use of words.  


Orana lay in bed, her eyes wide and heart pounding. In love. From a clinical, detached perspective, Orana had known the two men loved each other for months. She heard it enough times, heard them describe the various sexual acts they would perform on each other, heard the whispered pet names and affectionate phrases. But this... this proved it. Messere Fenris did not relax in front of anyone else, but in front of Messere Anders, he had cried. Grieved. Sobbed. And Messere Anders loved him back, had insisted that Messere Fenris was worth loving.  
Poor Messere Fenris, she thought sadly. When she was a child, Messere Fenris frightened her. Danarius's prize slave was a wild creature made of lyrium and metal claws. But now she saw he was only a man, a broken man afraid of loss and heartache but certain that it was all he deserved.  
Orana resolved to make Messere Fenris a pie for his next visit. There was not an ailment in the world, her papa once said, that could not be cured with good food. Between Messere Anders's love and care, and maybe a little help from her, Orana was certain Messere Fenris would feel better. For now she slept, feeling perfectly at ease knowing that the two men outside her door could take care of themselves. There were no slaves in Kirkwall, Orana reminded herself, and Messere Fenris was no slave.

 

“Anders, my love.” Messere Fenris sounded particularly happy today, Orana thought as she dusted the shelves in Lady Amell's room. Their voices carried from across the hall. “Anders, I have something for you.”  


“Fenris? What is? Oh.” Messere Anders drew in a deep breath. “Maker's Tits, Fenris, you don't expect me to-”  


“My mansion is across the square, Anders.” Messere Fenris said suggestively. “I am quite curious to see how Orlesian we can make you appear.”  


“It's gorgeous, Fenris, but the money-” Messere Anders whispered.  


“You deserve spoiling every once in a while.” Messere Fenris was firm. “And you always look lovely in silk.”

 

“Fenris! Your writing has improved!” Messere Hawke exclaimed one day as he looked at Messere Fenris's now neat penmanship. Orana offered the men tea and a plate of small fruit tarts.  


“I have practiced much, lately.” Messere Fenris stated, elegantly plucking an apple tart off the tray Orana offered. “Thank you, Orana.”  


“You write poetry on my skin.” Messere Anders remarked in Tevene as he poured some cream in his tea. “In ink and with your fingers.”  


“I am a man of many talents.” Messere Fenris retorted, and Orana had to fight down the blush overtaking her cheeks as she saw the dark, lazy look that Messere Fenris gave Messere Anders, like Messere Anders were prey and Messere Fenris was merely waiting for the right moment to pounce. And Messere Anders did not look frightened by Messere Fenris's pouncing. He seemed to welcome it. He brushed his hair out of his face and looked at Messere Fenris through his long lashes. She had seen courtesans employ the same tactics in Minrathous, but Orana had never seen them used so blatantly before.  


“You two could just try to not insult each other in my presence.” Messere Hawke complained. “Instead of talking in a language that none of us understand.”  


Orana kept her mouth shut and poured more tea.

 

“You two stop fighting! I swear, you both go at it like cats and dogs.” Guard Captain Vallen sounded exasperated. Orana rushed over to assist the captain in taking off some of her armor. “Thank you Orana, but I will only be here for a moment.”  


“Oh, it's always a battlefield with us, isn't it, Fenris?” Messere Anders snarked in Tevene, but Orana was very familiar with the teasing in his voice and the smile in his eyes. They were talking about sex again.  


“You have a talent for modifying spells for our type of battlefield, Anders.” Messere Fenris stated boldly, also in Tevene. “I had not thought ice magic could be used in such a way.”  


“If you want me to experiment some more, you need only ask.” Messere Anders's voice was low and sultry, and the two men shared a private smile before stepping away from each other and staring in opposite directions. Captain Vallen rolled her eyes and muttered something about messeres acting like children, but Orana did not know any children who behaved as Messere Anders and Messere Fenris did.

 

“Anders.” They were in the library, and Orana took her customary spot next to the door. Messere Hawke said there had been a battle in the sewers, that Messere Anders was unwell, and to keep an eye on him. But by the time she came down, they were in the library and they shut the door, but Orana could hear them through the wood.  


“Fenris.” It was Messere Anders who said that.  


“You are tired and cold. Come upstairs.” Messere Fenris ordered smoothly in Tevene.  


“Are you here to tell me how wrong I am? That I'm dangerous to everyone?” Messere Anders asked. He sounded tired. He stumbled over his Tevene, which he hadn't done in months. “I already know that.”  


“You have always been dangerous, Anders.” Messere Fenris said. “But you have always controlled it.”  


“Oh yes.” Messere Anders laughed, bitter and harsh and sad. “Yes, such excellent control over Justice. I almost murdered that poor girl-”  


“And you didn't.” Messere Fenris interrupted. “You held back.”  


“Thanks to Hawke. And you.” Messere Anders sighed. “You shouldn't be with me. I might hurt you someday.”  


“And I you. But I recall you saying I was worthy of love, and that love is worth the risk.” Messere Fenris's voice turned softer, tender, soothing. “I am worthy of love, as are you. And we both deserve a chance to be happy.”  


“It's not fair, Fenris.” Messere Anders murmured, and Orana knew he was crying.  


“It never is, my love.” Messere Fenris said. “It never is.”

 

“What does that word mean?” Lady Merrill asked one day. Messere Hawke's companions were lounging in the library. Messere Anders and Messere Fenris occupied the two armchairs in front of the fireplace, their heads bent close together as they murmured filthy suggestions and sweet nothings to each other in Tevene. Orana was putting out the last few dishes on the sideboard, just in case anyone got hungry.  


“What word, kitten?” Captain Isabela asked. She was lounging on the desk, distracting Messere Hawke from his letter writing. Messere Vael had come as well, and he was reading a letter on the couch. The conversation drew him from his correspondence, and he looked up as Lady Merrill spoke again.  


“That word. Amatus. Fenris uses it all the time, it must mean something.” Lady Merrill tilted her head to the side as she considered something. “He says it the most when he talks to Anders.”  


“Probably a dirty word, then. Our broody little spitfire has a mouth on him.” Messere Tethras chuckled. “Especially when it comes to Blondie.”  


“It is not a dirty word!” Orana thought, suddenly angry. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that Messere Hawke and his companions thought this way about Messeres Anders and Fenris! She knew they pretended to snipe and bite at each other, but they loved each other, and it was not fair that their friends thought the worst of them when they were together!  


The room was silent. Orana wondered what she had missed until she realized that all eyes were on her as she placed an apple pie on the sideboard.  


“If it's not a dirty word, Orana, what is it?” Guard Captain Vallen asked, and Orana's face heated up in embarrassment. She had thought she had kept her words to herself, but clearly she did not. She could not meet any of the ladies or messeres gazes, especially those of Messere Anders and Messere Fenris. She had not meant to betray them and their secret! If this were Tevinter, Minrathous, Hadriana's household- but it wasn't. There were no slaves in Kirkwall, and Orana was not a slave. She lifted her head and met Guard Captain Vallen's sharp gaze. It was the bravest she had ever felt.  


“Amatus means 'my love,' Guard Captain Vallen.” Orana said clearly. She turned her eyes to Messere Anders and Messere Fenris. Messere Anders looked shocked, while Messere Fenris maintained his cool, aloof expression.  


“I am sorry for telling them this way, messeres, but I could not bear the misunderstandings any more.” Orana apologized, not as a slave to a master but as free people did.  


“There's no need to apologize, Orana, we understand.” Messere Anders's cheeks were flushed bright pink. “Thank you for... for clarifying that for everyone.”  


“I had not realized you heard us.” Messere Fenris admitted. He did not look angry, Orana noted with relief. Just surprised.  


The rest of the room remained silent. The quill in Messere Hawke's hand dripped ink all across his now illegible letter. Messere Tethras reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of spectacles before whipping out his own quill and a thick little booklet of sorts. Messere Vael's face was red from his neck to the roots of his auburn hair. Guard Captain Vallen looked like she wanted to strangle one of the men in front of her, and she couldn't decide which one. Lady Merrill was surprised, but a sort of pleasant surprise, as if she learned that they would be having dessert for dinner. Captain Isabela seemed positively delighted.  


“So I wonder,” Captain Isabela practically purred. “If that's what amatus means, what else have they been saying? Orana, would you play translator again, sweetling?”  


“I... that is very private!” Orana protested, her cheeks running high with heat and color as she remembered some of the more colorful conversations the messeres had. “Extremely private!”  


“That,” Captain Isabela declared smugly, “Is enough to begin on. Now, on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the most lewd, how private were these conversations?”  


“You need not continue, Orana.” Messere Vael hurriedly said.  


“Thank you, Messeres and Ladies.” Orana gave a polite curtsey at the door. “Messere Hawke, if I am needed, please ring the bell.” She exited the library, but not before hearing Messere Hawke speak to Messere Anders and Messere Fenris.  


“I will have to disinfect this desk, won't I?” Messere Hawke said faintly.  


“You'll probably have to burn it.” Messere Tethras added, a gleeful tone to his voice. Orana smiled and went back to her work. Messere Fenris and Messere Anders were now free to show their feelings, free to reveal their love. There were no slaves in Kirkwall, and they were not slaves.

 

“I suppose there is no real point in speaking in Tevene any more, is there?” Anders remarked slowly, chewing on an orange slice. They were relaxing in Fenris's mansion. Hawke was still shocked by the sudden revelation of their relationship, and he seemed terrified that they would strip and jump each other in front of all their friends. Hawke was always ridiculous, Fenris thought, but he was relieved that they did not have to pretend anymore. He was tired of lying, of acting like he didn't care about Anders. Now they could be open, unafraid, like free men were supposed to be.  


“Are you worming your way out of your lessons, Anders?” Fenris asked, instead, leaning back in his armchair. In the chair across from him, Anders tilted his head back and laughed.  


“Maker knows I would never abandon my studies.” Anders teased. “I enjoy them too much!” A mischievous grin overtook his face. “Amatus.”  
Fenris groaned. “I had not realized that Orana heard us. I would have been more careful otherwise.”  


“I had forgotten she spoke Tevene. She speaks Common so fluently.” Anders sighed when Fenris gave him a slightly exasperated look. “I know, I know. Silly of me to forget. But you know, I'm glad she said what she did.”  


“I was surprised by her determination.” Fenris remarked. Surprised and proud. Orana had always been so timid, but she defended them, had argued and gotten upset.  


“I... sort of wish she hadn't heard some of our conversations.” Anders added. “You know, the really-”  


“The ones where I detailed how I would take you to bed?” Fenris said. “Or the ones where I suggested you suck my cock as you finger yourself? Or perhaps it was the time that I requested you wear that Orlesian corset and serve me wine before-”  


“Yes! Yes, all of those!” Anders hastily said frantically, and Fenris laughed at the panicked, then irritated expression on Anders's face. He grinned and gestured for Anders to come forward.  


“We shall live with the embarrassment, Anders. We have lived through worse.” Fenris said soothingly, reaching up to pet Anders's hair. “And it was worth it. Did you see Isabela's face?”  


“I thought she'd sneak in to follow us! She was so jealous.” Anders crawled into the armchair next to Fenris. Fenris adjusted himself and nudged Anders this way and that, until Anders was firmly settled in his lap.  


“Of course she is jealous.” Fenris said, taking Anders's chin in his hand and tugging him down to finally kiss that firm, pleasant mouth. “And Amatus?”  


“Hmmmm?” Anders's eyes were closed, his body relaxed against Fenris's.  


“If you put on the corset, I will wear that ridiculous get-up you so enjoy.” Fenris said  


“Ohhh, with the furs?” Anders popped up in his seat, grinning brightly and trembling with eagerness.  


“Yes. Though I fail to grasp the point of dressing up when it ends up on the floor anyhow.” Fenris grumbled, but when Anders hopped out of his lap and raced up the stairs, Fenris hoisted himself up and gave chase. They were free, and they could do as they pleased.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read/bookmarked/left kudos, and or left comments. A special thanks to the OP for this prompt, because it got my creative juices flowing when I was in a rut! Thank you very much!


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